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BUDDHA 



(Written 1891-1895) 



A DRAMA IN TWELVE SCENES 



BY 



SADAKICHl HARTMANN 



■t "^ 



AUTHOR'S EDITION 



NKW YORK 
1897 



SYNOPSIS. 

Scene I. The Shore of Drifting Sand. 

II. On the Banks of the Ganges. 

III. A Village Street. 

IV. The Temple of Renunciation. 
V. The Lake of Individual Aristocracy. 

VI. A Battle Field. 

VII. At the Forest's Edge. 

VIII. The Vale of Rest. 

IX. The Cave of Dawn. 

X. At the Boundary of Perpetual Snow. 

XI. Summit of the Himalaya. 

XII. Darkness in Space. 



Zimc : Bbout 500 :©» C. 



Dedicated to Those Who, 

Far away from the Multitude, 

Climb Parnassus on 

Precipitous Paths. 



BUDDHA 



SCENE I. 



SHORE OF DRIFTING SAND. VIEW ON THE OCEAN. 

MOONDAWN 



Gautama asleep on the dunes. A train of camels approaches. The 
former silence seems to be heightened by the cautious, gliding, 
indolent steps of the camels, to which the waves murmur a 
faint accompaniment. 

Gautama. {Awakes, and gazes motionless, as if still dreaming, 
on the silent procession — ghost-like as their flitting shadows — until 
the last camel has disappeared in the greenish distance . ) As human 
life should be ! Art's fragrance wafted by, that in orgasmic joys 
incessantly dissolves life's ambiguity. 

Curtain, 



SCENE II. 



ON THE BANKS OF THE GANGES. 



To the left, through a rich confusion of white and scarlet rhodo- 
dendron trees, interspersed with kixuriant tropical growth, 
silvery glimpses of the river ; in the centre a hill, over which 
a reddish road ascends from the right. Drowsy, vibrating light 
of noontide. Now and then, a sluggish draught moves gently 
through the scene, and the trees shake dreamingly their leafy 
crowns. 

Bayaderes : Laguda, Davkuna. Zeana and Vaivasvata (enter; 
their golden girdles glitter as they make their way through the 
jungles) . 

Laguda. A day bewildering and fervent sweet 1 

Davkuna. The sun progresses to his height of passion ; all flowers 
fade beneath his violence. 

Zeana. Not a snake or lizard sparkles in the ferns and moss. 

Davkuna. No incantation of an iridescent bird is sounding. 

Zeana . The gnats alone perform their tremulous dance. 

Davkuna. The water beckons with fragrant calm. 

Vaivasvata, Why do you undrape so hastily ? 

Laguda. To come in contact with nature. It is as if the dust 
of daily toil were falling from my body, and I became a better and 
purer being when naked. 

Vaivasvata, I like to unsheathe myself, slowly, softly, one by 
one, with long intervals. {Breaks a flower and looks into its chalice, 
lost in contemplation; butterflies of every conceivable hue flutter 
around her . ) 



10 BUDDHA. 

Laguda. ( Throwing off her last garment. ) No, I must drink in 
nature, like a thirsty babe its mother's milk ; inhale light and 
air with every sense, feel at once the water's full embrace and 
allow its resilient waves to caress and kiss me without truce — 
without rest — without end, (Runs off). 

Davkuna. {Looking after her.) What a streak of light ! 

Zeana. Brightest bit of color imaginable ! The despair of 
painters. 

Davkuna. Laguda has unfastened her auburn hair. Now, she 
will duck. Look— a nymph disappearing in the waves of her own 
dishevelled hair ! 

Vaivasvata. {To the flower.) Like a sister soul whose rhythmic 
breath of unavowed desires deflowers all the pregnant sounds of 
passion I 

Prince Berusani, his tutors Nindar and Sudotana, and Senna, 
attendant {appear on the highway). 

Prince Berusani. Is this their trysting place ? 

Senna. Like moving statues they nudate. Transparent clouds 
pass softly over heaven. 

Nindar. Then shade your eyes, for you will be mad with desire; 
a sunray struggling golden through the grey of clouds seems more 
triumphant than the sun of love itself. 

Prince Berusani. Wherefore restraint upon restraint ? All 
animals delight in mutual fellowship — the plants sway to and fro 
each other, even the rocks bend towards the sun and heave their 
granite souls up to the moon — why should not men and women con- 
secrate their spring by love ! 

Sudotana. Because it merges man in countless troubles and 
vexations, 

Zeana. There is no doubt that we are the four most roseate 
rorulent love maidens in the district. 

Davkuna. {To Zeana.) Chaste furies of diurnal storms have 
carved thy tapering limbs. 

Zeana. Vaivasvata is beauty's queen. 

Vaivasvata. My body is too luxuriant, deep and cold. 

Zeana. {To Vaivasvata.) In warlike hemispheres thy body's 
soul reveals itself. 



BUDDHA. 11 

Davkuna. Then her abdomen, long and bold, melodious warm, 
and chastely vaulted I In ruined rhythms flow the line& of mine. 

Vaivasvata. And lies the garden of thy love forlorn ! 

Zeana. Who carves in ivory the ardent silver of her lily breasts? 

Davkuna. Upon whom, I wonder, would Prince Berusani be- 
stow his flaming kiss ? 

Zeana. Beauty blurs by dew of love and sighs of passion. 
{Picks up a handful of broken petals.) Behold, can thy languid 
eyes discern which one was blown by winds of night, on seas of love 
between thy pleasure lips? 

Vaivasvata. (Sits as if thinking of past experiences of love.) 
Scented winds blow gently, kiss my nakedness and scatter flower 
leaves and pollen dust upon my trembling self. 

Davkuna. (Rests herself on a rock.) I like to sit on hot stones, 
and full of devotion adore the beautiful, odorous summer day. It 
intoxicates me like Soma wine. (Smiling; her lustrous eyes half 
closed. ) 

Zeana. (Laughs.) What queer little waves tumble over 
the pebbles and pet my soles. This is heavenly! The lapping of 
the waves, the distant noises on the highvv^ay, the whispering of 
the tree-tops ! The birth of slumbering varicolored songs ! 

Davkuna. (Staggers into the water.) 

Vaivasvata. (Naked. ) What harmony of lambent sounds each 
movement of the body lilts ! Ah, to sing and dance the raptures of 
love in this realm of light ! (Makes a few dignified steps while 
humming a festive air.) Proudly I step into the cool and tempting 
flood. What a beautiful reflection I make in the water ! 

Prince Berusani. The water purls from her limbs as from the 
shining petals of the water lily without leaving trace. For her I 
could put my hands into a furnace. 

Nindar. Believe me, oh Prince, each urn of love is filled with 
filth or poison. These women are like fruit before its fall : luscious 
and over-ripe. Behold them lolling with themselves at night, 
engulfed in twilight blanks of ruined flowers, fallen gems, and 
finery unthrilled by lute and tambourine ; you'll awake from your 
dream and, in the nauseous atmosphere of amorous vulgarity, see 
womankind deprived of her fictitious love-breath charms. One 
has earth drawn breasts that no babe can suckle ; another suggests in 



12 BUDDHA. 

wrinkles the vapidness of fat senility; a third one's face reveals in 
sleep the ugliness of her soul. 

Prince Berusani. Is it always the body which we love ? 

Senna. No woman will refuse you the enjoyment of her soul. 
Yet taste her body first to test whether your love be really search- 
ing for her soul. 

Prince Berusani. Well spoken, Senna; let these buddhas talk; 
we two shall act. 

SUDOTANA. Though men know that to enjoy woman means dis- 
tress, they are ever impatient for new follies for their sake. 

Prince Berusani. Now they shake liquid pearls from hair and 
limb. Let us sweep down like lovelorn winds on high-stalked 
flowers and search for bliss in dim treasure caves amidst liquescent 
wilderness ! {Tearing the obstructing branches apart. ) 

Gautama {appears ; murmurs in a monotonous, long-draivn, 
hypnotizing voice, repeating every sentence three times, as he slowly 
passes on). Renounce! Humanity, renounce all confident con- 
viction in yourself I Struggle for the cessation of sorrow, become 
ensouled in me: the Sublime Renunciation, The Non-God. {Exits.) 

Senna stares enquiringly at Prince Berusani, who 
gazes motionless after Gautama. Nindar and Sudotana 
stand in ecstacy, hushed by the mystery of soul concus- 
sion. The bayaderes, exhaling tremulous diffidence and 
broken indecision, have seized some of their garments 
and hide behind foliage, only Vaivasvata looms up 
radiant in triumphant monotony. 

Curtain. 



SCENE III. 

A VILLAGE STREET. 
Change of scene produced by moving scenery. 



Prince Berusani, followed by Nindar and Sudotana (whose 
faces show the dull, stereotype smile of Indian statues, walk along 
the street). 

Old Man. (Collecting dry dung.) Alas — alas — alas ! 

Berusani. Why do you sigh so pitifully ? 

Old Man. Pick up dung yourself, and you will know why. 

Berusani. Imagine that it is an agreeable and remunerative 
occupation. 

Old Man. Are you one of those poets who make gold of camel's 
dung ? I have no use for them. Don't babble any more. I won't 
understand your parables. (Continues his work.) Alas — alas — 
alas ! 

Berusani. How stupid to live in these little houses, when one 
can have the whole universe as abode. Human beings are the 
queerest things in creation. 

A Father stands at the threshold of a cottage. A beau- 
tiful mother fondles her child. 

Berusani. (Stej^s up to them. ) Do not be too happy ; calamities 
may come at any moment. Your husband may play false, or your 
sudden death may leave the child to strangers. 

Father. Go along, you philosophizing mendicants. Don't 
frighten a little woman, or I'll try my fist on your shaven crowns. 



14 BUDDHA. 

Two Pariahs with cramped limbs and swollen bellies 
crawl through the dust. 

1st Pariah. Pray, give me more than you can spare ! 

3nd Pariah. Don't be cluntch-fisted. Offer a sacrifice to pov- 
erty, personified in me ! 

Berusani. We have less than you. You see we are satisfied 
and do not make such faces. 

1st Pat^iah. You are healthy, while we — ah me, what pain ! 

Be rusani. Console yourselves^ we wear a girdle of thorns around 
our waists. (Shoivs his thighs, en ivhich blood drops are visible. ) 

3nd Pariah. They are mad. Ah me — what pain ! 

Juggler showing his tricks to the crowd. 

Bersuani. You are the symbol of humanity ! — Juggling, jug- 
gling, always juggling; trying to stand on your heads for no earthly 
reason whatever ; dancing on ropes and listening to soothsaying. 

Juggler. Get out of the way, and don't spoil honest people's 
business. 

In the next cottage a Student is seen writing. 

His Father. {Proudly.) Look out for him; some day he will 
be a great buddha. 

Berusani. Do not cudgel your brain, poor fool, your mental 
gravity will cause neither revolution nor enlightment. I fear you 
cannot even comprehend that, alone, the mind which — were it but 
for one short hour — reigned ubiquitous in other souls, still con- 
scious of itself, could discard the partiality of self and gain om- 
niscience among man. Poor drudge! 

Student. Ruffian, you dare ! I forget myself. Seers who de- 
scribe the indescribable should suffer martyrdom in indestructible 
passivity. 

Dealer counts his money in a little store. 

Berusani. If you lay aside as much as that each day. you will 
soon be a worthy partisan of wealth. 

Dealer. (Chuckles.) Yes, I have laid by a goodly sum. 
Berusani . Some night robbers might break into your house 



BUDDHA. 15 

and kill you ; of what use would your coins then be to you except 

to be smelted into an urn for your ashes ? 
Dealer. (Raking up his money. ) Help ! Thieves, robbers ! 

Blind Man. (Passes by. ) Have pity with the blind man ! Tell me 
where I am. 

Berusani, Dear friend, none of us knows where he is. Men 
do not even know where this world is floating in the universe. 

Blind Man. What are you mumbling about ? Do you take me 
for a fool ? Can I not hear, taste, smell, feel what others s^e ? 

An Old Man, toothless, trembling upon his stick, leers 
at a young girl, who walks with an affected, rocking gate. 

Berusani, Are you not ashamed of yourself, old, dissipated 
wretch ? 

Old Man. (Grins, pointing after the girl.) At the first glance 
I espy the most hidden lines. 

Berusani. Are you not old enough to know that the lusts of man 
are like sea water ? mocking man's thirst instead of quenching it. 

Old Man. (Grins; leaning forward on his stick, he falls down.) 

Woman. (Beats her breast, tears her hair, and casts away her 
jewels. ) Woe is me ! Woe is me ! 

Berusani. What .woe has befallen you ? 

Woman. My lover has left me. 

Berusani. Weep, as the years gyrate, or search for other cur- 
rents consanguineous in love to yours. 

Nindar and Sudotana stop spellbound for a moment 
at the sight of a barber shaving the head of a child. 
Nindar stares at the bald head of the child, Sudotana at 
the razor glistening in the sun ; thereupon bofh pursue 
their way, their faces having completely changed expres- 
sion and become illumined as if by a new idea. 

A corpse lying on a bier is carried out of the village ; 
lamenting women follow it. 

Berusani. Why do you whine, as if you were losing your wits, 
over one who is no more, or attained a state of future bliss ? Why do 



16 BUDDHA. 

you not dance and sing, and feast ? They hate death, and yet wish 
to be reborn in another world ! (Leaving the village.) What are 
you searching for in the grass ? 
Young Girl. For flowers hitherto unknown. 

NiNDAR and Sudotana for the first time nod approval. 
In the distance loom a row of gigantic pagodas. 

NiNDAR. Fare thee well, oh Prince. Here our ways do part. 

Sudotana. Never to meet again, I hope. 

NiNDAR and Sudotana. You wend your way from whence we 
came. 

Berusani. And whither will your future lead ? 

NiNDAR and Sudotana. To flowers hitherto unknown. (Exit.) 

Berusani. Must I fain meander through this labyrinthian life 
alone ! 

Curtain. 



SCENE IV. 



THE TEMPLE OF RENUNCIATION. 



Court corner in a cave temple (as Menzel might paint it), with 
shrines, images and basins for lioly water. Crowds of worship- 
pers; some turn praying wheels. Bell-ringing. Sombre atmos- 
phere. A Double Choir performs the majestic hymn of painful 
exuberance : ' ' Let good will without measure prevail among 
beings. Even in this world holiness may be found." 

Laguda, Davkuna, Zeana and Vaivasvata, robed in opal and 
celadon, listen. 

Laguda. Like surging waves these mighty rhythms rush upon 
me ! 

Zeana. As a high-stalked flower trembles in the wind, listlessly 
I sway hither and thither under the currents of these fierce and 
pregnant melodies. I fain will die, if not a simpler chord, on which 
my life is set, sounds forth. {Listens as if time and space were 
gone. ) 

Davkuna. {Like a back-blown, dew-pearled flower.) Meseems 
that lilies sprout upon lutescent hills and in the deepest depths of 
forest-wilds. Oh, fleeting moments of voluptuous pain ! 

Vaivasvata. Oh, knights of heaven, come, redeem me from 
the throes of continence, squandering our energy to act like men. 

The singing ceases. The stewards, though dressed like 
princes, converse steward-like to Gautama, leaning 
against a colossal Bangalore. A. magnificent procession 



18 BUDDHA. 

passes by : incense and flower bearers, shaven priests in 
gorgeous vestments, monks and nuns of the Huge Con- 
vent, with fans, lamps, sacred vessels, etc., etc. 

Second Steward. All is over now. 

Third Steward. He has really squandered his kingdom. Who 
would have believed it ? 

First Steward. And what a festival it was ! 

Third Steward. Since its beginning, darkness devoured the 
moon some twenty times. 

Second Steward. {To Gautama.) It would have probably 
changed your system of meditation, you old hypocrite. Fifty kings 
from shore and mountain-land and the vast plains attended; none 
as magnanimous as he. 

Third Steward. They came in four-horsed chariots of gold and 
precious stones ; the parade of their retinue often lasted six hours. 

First Steward. One procession of white elephants was one 
mile long. You never heard such trumpeting before. 

Second Steward. And the horse sacrifice ! By all that is 
glorious ! 

Third Steward. More splendid pavilions of pleasure never 
were pitched upon the banks of the Ganges. 

First Steward. The woods were swarming with bayaderes. 

Third Steward. Music was performed night and day by thou- 
sands of instruments. 

Second Steward. And the twelve-act dramas; what moral 
edification ! 

Third Steward. Lights, flickering in every hue imaginable, 
flashed through the forests, and from the mountain peaks, through 
all dark hours. 

First Steward. And now he is adored by his people. Larger 
multitudes, men and women, old and young, poor and sick, never 
feasted together. 

Third Steward. All the gods were regilded. 

Second Steward. ' Everybody's portrait was painted gratui- 
tously. 

Third Steward. (To Gautama.) Well may astonishment ren- 
der you silent. Such a miracle of benevolence was unknown before-. 

Second Steward. He is too good for this -^vorld. He wished 



BUDDHA. ' 19 

to apply the laws of heaven to ungrateful humanity. Should he 
ever repent of having squandered everything, he may take my 
possessions— and yours too, eh ! 
First Steward. Yes, I give in. He was very kind to us 
Third Steward. As it was he who presented me with those 
thickly manured fields, my future home enclosed by shady trees 
he may sit under them and bouse from the cistern whenever he 
likes. 

Second Steward. (To Gautama.) You would like to know why 
he did It. He felt a yearning which nothing could satisfy and 
. which robbed all charm from earthy glories and hopes. 
First Steward. He does not seem interested. 
Third Steward. Do not bother about that fool . 
First Steward. He must be a little weak-minded. 
Second Steward. The king is coming ! Naked! He has given 
away his last robe. Let us weep over his generosity. 

The King enters . 

All except Gautama. We bow before thee, holy man ! We 
praise thy wisdom's adamantine glory, which gropes in the dark 
confusion of this world for wisdom's piercing light. 

A female child, decorated with jewels and holding a 
mirror, riding on a lion, is led by. 

Naked King. Behold this child with the pearl and ruby-rimmed 
mirror : egotism reflecting truth. Just as the mirror relates to our 
eyes the occurrences of the surrounding scene, so does the im^ge- 
formmg soul of children dimly reflect the outside world, of which 
involuntarily they regard themselves the centre. The circle of vision 
widens as they grow older; less than ever can they escape from 
this delusion. We grown-up children, in our self-importance, spend 
the largest part of our existence in selfish desire and care, longing 
for objects unattainable which, when attained, produce no happi- 
ness, but fresh desire and care. Therefore, it is wisest to reduce 
our wants to naught. As a king, as the great I am, I could easily 
follow my heart's desire without transgressing right, let me try if I 
can also live in bane on the common ways of life. 



20 BUDDHA. 

Gautama. (Remaining in his earth-lorn attitude.) Renounce! 
Humanity, renounce all confident conviction in yourself ! Struggle 
for the cessation of sorrow, and become ensouled in me, the Sub- 
lime Renunciation, the Non-God ! 

Naked King. (Makes a stupid face.) 

Fluid silver threads fall slanting from the bowels of the 
universe, and lightnings tear a fringe of vibrate fire-gold 
athwart the darkened robe of heaven. 

Curtain. 



SCENE V. 



THE LAKE OF INDIVIDUAL ARISTOCRACY. 



Sad silence over a lake lost in the solitude of a nobleman's park. 
Cranes stand amidst high-stalked flowers on the edge of the 
crystalline water. Swans float dream-like among the white, 
red and blue lotuses, who, trembling in odorous satiety, lift 
their immaculate chalices into the musical atmosphere. 

Nobleman. {Robed in virgated violescence, ivith a dazed and 
absorbed look, rests in a giant tortoise shell filled ivith Madhavi 
blosso7ns, extending hospitality to the tivo pilgrims, Nindar and 
SuDOTANA, sitting cross-legged. They have paper stripes icith 
Yama, the god of death, fastened to their hempen robes. Nindar 
hides a dagger on his hairy chest. Slaves fan them.) So you 
have met the genuine Buddha? {Pilgrims nod.) And he had 
such an overwhelming influence upon you, for after all it was he 
who induced you to cliange your lives completely. He must ex- 
ercise a strange hypnotizing influence, that old how should I 

name him ? I also admired him in former times when his irresist- 
ible eloquence made crowds of thousands stand motionless. Never- 
theless, I was always of the opinion that he tried to make rather 
too much of himself. You know he had the trick of carrying blue 
lights about his person, in a manner as if he himself radiated 
the light. As for his conceit in letting the sages of the country 
dispute, whether his mother bore him in a horizontal or vertical 
position — pshaw ! He has also proclaimed that he is god himself. 
All this, of course, is absurd. Nevertheless, he will be one of the 
greatest thinkers of all time; perhaps, who can vouch for it, the 
founder of hundreds of religions. Every millennium a wise man 



23 BUDDHA. 

is born who, with words of truth, strews sand into the brains 
of all; and they, who anyhow have no time or ability to think, 
perch parrot-like about, roting his words. Peculiar are your 
two theories. You {turning to Sudotana), to kill all, especially the 
viable, and throw their corpses into the river by night, so that sail- 
ers of the ocean may gaze on them, gnawed by vultures, iioating 
with bloated bellies {makes a movement of disgust) away into the 
dim unknown. And you (to Nindar), to teach mankind to 
avoid the nuptial state, thus calling forth the dissolution 
of the race. You two work hand in hand. If you succeed 
in preventing birth, and you kill off the living, the world will soon 
whirl depopulated through the universe. I understand you : you 
have grown weary of life. As for me, possessing various talents — 
I sing, write poetry, paint and sculpt a little — I should find life 
tolerable at lecist. I can lie for hours and listen to pearls pattering 
over marble slabs, or to the crackling of silk under old wenches' 
horny finger-ends. And what delight, to have my languid limbs 
deluged with oils and wines, each fluid, like each paramour, 
caressing me in different grades of bliss. Yet, one man, after all, 
can accomplish so little, even if he ravished earth's nations with 
ardent swords, or conjured up towers of Babel with despotism's 
bloody fist. What can we really know ! They say the world is 
an immense ball, circling through space, I believe. I am no as- 
tronomer — I must believe in hearsay. Therefore I have perfect 
right to imagine it an eclipse or a pyramid. And as far as human ex- 
perience in sorrow is concerned — how insignificant ! We cannot even 
realize what we have exiDerienced. Only the great fireworker may 
express unconsciously the melancholy of a thousand lives with one 
fire line piercing the nocturnal sky. I also feel weary at times, 
for I have neither acquired great wisdom nor keen power of rea- 
soning. I possess but delitescent intuition ; and it teaches me that 
he is best off who, like the butterfly, injuring not the color or scent 
of his beloved flowerlets, flies away after sipping the nectar. So I 
sing, write poetry, paint and sculpt a little. And in regard to joy 
in living, I can assert without conceit, that I have acquired one 
rather high-strung preference : I do not receive the same impres- 
sion of things as other men do; they always consider my impression 
false, peculiar, vague, or exaggerated ; and I feel that, after all — 
my taste for after-flavors seems superior — is, perhaps, the only true 



BUDDHA. 33 

one— (Pilgrims shaJce their heads) thsit is the only true one to me— to 
none else— beautiful, good, sacred is what I experience so I How- 
ever, let us have some recreation. (Beckons.) 

NuRVA, the Magi of Odors, dressed in jewels and a veil 
of black transparency, appears. In her left arm rests a 
lyre in ivory and gold. She assumes a hieratic attitude, 
with her right arm makes a mysterious, sweeping gesture 
through the languid atmosphere, and strikes a few har- 
monious accords on her instrument. A delicate scent is 
wafted from her, which changes whenever her right hand 
repeats the mystic sign and falls like fugitive kisses on 
the trembling chords. Her performance reveals the 
psychological wealth of odors, the possibilities of an 
olfactory art. The melodious colors of perfume subdue 
the illusion of reality ; and the mind, laden with scent, 
soars, into unknown realms of imagination, where desire 
alone is law. And in everchanging symphonies the odors 
suggest all sensations and embrace eternity. In the be- 
ginning the Magi suggests in intermingling harmonies 
the laughter of youth o'er green velvety meadowland, 
the flowers of subtlest emotions exhaling once more the 
dividuous scents of their violated chalices to the fading 
sun, or aromatic balms (of vegetable substances) suggesting 
thesilent reveries of night : when human lights extinguish 
and the moon, pale as if woven by fairy tales, mourns over 
dark cypress trees; then paraphrasing on the sweat of 
labor, the sea of multi-odorous life surges by in bold im- 
pressionistic dreams, strewn with the rafters of despair in 
variations of ambergris resembling the colors of Cha- 
vannes, ebbing at last on solitary strains of ardent unadul- 
terated smells into timeless meditations over the Nothing, 
boring deep holes into consciousness— stark still pauses 
on the wisdom of renunciation— like the acrid, passionless 
litany of lilies. 

During this scene Nindar has repeatedly scratched him- 
self and plucked his nose; and Sudotana has nervously 



24 BUDDHA. 

groped for his dagger, he now jumps up and stabs the 
nobleman. 

Nobleman. (Falling out of the shell.) Is this the way you re- 
pay hospitality ? 

NiNDAR. What have you done ? 

SuDOTANA. Began the mission of my life ! (Stabbing at the at- 
tendants who try to seize him ; to Nindar. ) You I allow to live ; 
you are my ally in this work ! (Escapes. ) 

Nobleman. Let me try at least to die in as comfortable and pic- 
turesque a manner as circumstances allow. (Holding some perfume 
to his 7iose and icith the other hand pressing his wound, assumes a 
theatrical pose.) Inform my guests, that I beg to be excused, as 
I am engaged in dying. 

The startled cranes wing away in lyric lines from the 
high-stalked flowers, sighing beneath the melancholy 
incantations of the wind; the lotuses drown their chal- 
ices in the languid undulations of their watery bed; while 
the swans, shivering, assemble and, in mystic attitudes, 
fade away into the darkness. 

Curtain. 



SCENE VI. 



A BATTLEFIELD. 



Sunset changing into cold russet. Long-haired and long-limbed 
barbarians in leopard skins rob the corpses, lying in every posi- 
tion, distorted and bleeding, of all ornaments of value. Fe- 
male captives crouch in fear and shame in agonistic outlines 
against the passive sky. Rows of elephants in the distance. 

Young Barbarian Chieftain {in a gorgeous dress, overloaded 
ivithsjmrkling Jewels, and smeared with blood; one foot on the cleft 
skull of his father).. Like a hissing tide of lire, we coiled devour- 
ing through the hostile lines with many a crackling blaze, until 
they self- oblivious fled, and my infuriated herd of elephants, 
with spearing tusk and crushing trunk, surged after them and 
tread the cowards down in murderous rage. Here I have fought 
my greatest victory ! Yet I feel sad, since I have seen that white 
emaciated loafer— it must have been a buddha. I did not un- 
derstand the meaning of his murmurings; to me it meant: Why 
are you raving of immortal glory, if your to-morrow dawns per- 
chance on fate more cruel than your foes' to- night ? Why the in- 
cessant relentless strife with this old fool ? {Pushes aside the 
skull ivith his toes. ) Like youth, I faced the East, garnered my 
strength from dawn's invigorance; while your red eyes, white 
bearded man, sought constantly the panorama of the setting sun 
which blinded you to life's realities. We two, like all, looked upon 
different worlds, although we stood so close together. A disgust has 
come over me. I dislike the sharp, bright edge of my barbaric 
sword. Spoliation, rape and slaughter were my religion hitherto, 
and with one stroke to split in two a human body its orgasmic 



20 BUDDHA. 

Iioight. I'orhaps it vv.-is my liking living rod; now 1 vvjintwliite 
— the white of Ininian bodies witliout wounda and scjirs — Jind crack 
Crom my hands the gore of weeks, (il/u.sr.s. The naked King, or- 
iimncnted inilli /lowers, jjx/.s.s'c.v. ) And thou, strange wanderer, I 
would lien.]) upon thee all the spoils of this year's hordraging, if thou 
w(Mi nol a, thousand times more beautiful in the wliolenesa of thy 
llawl(^SM mould. Oh, could vv(5 all livo (lower crowned, in sexless 
)t(\'i,uly, in marble homes, amidst dark foliage, 'neath azure skies! 
Till'; Nakioi) K'ino. (Pursuing his meandering.) Wliy liope, 
da,((mft(M- date, (expecting a better day by some eliange alway; if, 
a,t any rate, whatever we try to do will end with the same old 
late ! 

The infamies of war are fading in the crepuscular mist; 
here and there the jewels on some (M)rpses gleam in the 
gold of the vanished sun. 

Curtain . 



SCENE VII. 



AT THE FOREST EDGE OF LIFE. 



To tlie left an old, dilapidated tent jiitched up at the forest edge 
which, winding itself into the distance, forms a slanting line 
across the background; between the latter and the foreground a 
sloping plain. To the right, at the edge of an abyss, a solitary 
fir tree, from where a wide vista on the surrounding country 
can be enjoyed. Early evening effect. 

Ariya. {A lean, uyly^ crippled maid at the age of opening buds — 
her eyes radiate an almost unearthly inward beauty — balancing on 
her head a large dish with red rice dumplings and currying a jvg 
filled with curdled milk on her hip, enters, looks about and listens.) 
The winds of eventide stray through the forest. Tlie wings of 
insects sing to nubile buds, husks yield and stamens expand in 
dewlit depths. 

The Wise Old Man. {Is seen rolling down the sloping plain 
towards his tent; as he rises he bursts out into an Aristophanic roar 
of laughter which shakes his whole frame.) How life is interesting! 
Ah, Ariya! Why, wliat saturity ; heavy to carry, eh? The nuns of 
the Huge Convent must really consider me a glutton. There was a 
time when I could easily manage this in one sitting, but those days 

of voracity are over; now a dish of rice with a fragrant sauce 

I am getting incanescent, Ariya. When I awake in the morning 
{draws Ariya on his knees) I am i)erfectly stiff, I can't move my 
joints. They get out of place during the night. I begin to rub, 
beat, scrape myself all over with a piece of rhinoceros skin, and 



28 BUDDHA. 

gradually I am able to stretch, bend, use my limbs . After dragging 
about for awhile, cheered, strengthened, I feel more comfortable, 
and by vespertime I am lively enough to afford myself the 
pleasure of rolling, sliding, tumbling down this hill. {Lets Ariya 
glide from his knee and toddles to the solitai^y fir tree.) Oh, you 
sly rascal, up to your tricks again ! 

Ariya. I wonder how you can do it without growing dizzy . 

Wise Old Man. I have balanced myself long enough over the 
inconsistent absurdities of life, and I can now well afford to stand 
firmly at this precipice and this foolish, foolish world. 

Ariya. Interfered with by nobody ? How enviable! 

Wise Old Man. If human beings want to live peacefully 
they should even beware of friends — grow indurate. 

Ariya. I, then, do not want to be your friend 

Wise Old Man. Never so profane a thing. I love you as I love 
the rocks, the trees, the atmosphere. 

Ariya. For I have only you to go to. Nobody likes me. 

Wise Old Man. They are your saintly eyes they do not like. 
They arouse suspicion. 

Ariya. Do 3'^ou never feel lonesome? 

Wise Old Man. Lonesome with myself as company? On the 
contrary, sometimes — to my own humiliation, I confess this stain 
on my content — I struggle to get away, sneak out from my person- 
ality, as everything seems so amusing, so ridiculous to me. I have 
such fits of 1 iughter that tears gush over my cheeks and I finally 
fall asleep exhausted. My cup of life is full, overflowing, inex- 
haustible. The world lies before me like a stage, with a mystery 
play upon the programme. I espy princely hunts and crowded 
fairs, religious processions and marching armier?, enough to sug- 
gest the insoluble problems of existence without being annoyed by 
lis trivialities. From time to time the curtain drops, wrapping me 
in a cloud of mist, whereupon nature begins anew to tease and 
tickle me with her inconsequent monstrosities. If it be not a 
sumptuous psalm of sunset, a drowsy noonday lullaby of heat, or 
the furious rhythms of a thunderstorm, an inundation or an earth- 
quake may be served to me as an irresistible side splitting delicacy. 
What flaring lights pierce through the forest ? It reminds me of 
yesternight. Do you see yonder smoking ruins ? A burning village 
furnished fireworks for me. 



BUDDHA. 39 

An infuriated and lamenting crowd of villagers drag 
in SUDOTANA by his legs, his head trailing on the ground. 

Bawling OF THE Mob. Justice! Hailtothee, perpetual laugh- 
ter! We found a dead monkey in our well. We anticipated a 
croak disaster. It has come. This monster set our village on fire. 
He is a massacrist. He has robbed us. He has killed us. We, all 
you see here, are almost dead. 

Wise Old Man. {Grins.) A tragical farce, Ariya. Do not 
reflect it in tears, my child. The mob is not worthy of such dew. 

Ariya. I feel people's sorrow by the music they exhale. 

Old Villager. They wanted to lynch him 

Croaking of the Mob. Starve him to death !— Skin him alive ! 
— Nail him to a tree ! — Cut him in two ! — No, cut him in 120 pieces! 
— At least defer the cuts affecting vital organs to the last ! 

Wise Old Man. Murderer's murderers ! 

Old Villager. I, putting my own life in danger, protected 
him, as we have to be just even to monstrosities. Let us go to the 
Wise Old Man, I advised, and let him sit judgment on this in- 
fandous crime. 

Wise Old Man. How his gaping wounds encrimson the ground! 

Old Villager. Gaze at this woman. {Pointing at a woman 
who holds a singed body in her arms. ) Was it your only child ? 

Woman. Oh, no; if it had been, it would have just killed me. 
I have lost other children before, but never one like this. (Kisses 
the si7iged body.) I never knew what death meant. 

Old Villager. Oh, what pain has been suffered on this earth ! 
Why are we created to endure such tortures, which will in twilight 
hours still reverberate when the sufferers are long dead. 

Wise Old Man. Why so yond, old yowler ? 

Old Villager. Gaze at this old man. (An old man, stiff as a 
log of wood, is carried by two villagers to the foreground. ) He was 
the hoariest man in our village. He had just hundred and seven- 
teen children and grandchildren ; one three-legged absurdity among 
them. They are all burnt; their bodies char under yonder ruins! 
When he saw his house sway creaking and groaning from side to 
side, and finally tumble over burying domestic happiness and wealth 
under a cloud of dust, he seemed to lose all life and stands like a 
statue ever since. 



30 BUDDHA. 

Wise Old Man. You seem to take great relish in such things, 
old scape-cross ? 

SUDOTANA. I am their misjudged benefactor. They should re- 
joice that I endeavor to shorten their disgusting slavery to nature 
and each other, instead of maltreating him who despises life. 

Wise Old Man. Not so much as to annihilate yourself, eh, old 
scape-cross ? 

SuDOTANA. I am doomed to preserve my detestable life ; I have 
still other deeds to do. 

Wise Old Man. Egregious ! Set him free. He is a superior 
being: he has a conviction. Don't throp, dear folks, go home with- 
out verbosity; you have not lost much, as you never owned, appro- 
priated, adopted a, conviction. Profit by this zealot incarnation 
— acquire one. 

Crunching OF THE Mob. Shame! Shame! Is this rectitude? 
— That is beyond me. — At least let him pay a fine. — Why has he the 
right to commit such an outrage ? 

Wise Old Man. Because he is more powerful than you. Jus- 
tice is an empty word ; whether he be right or wrong, only one 
judge can decide: he himself. Whatever you have the power to be, 
you have the right to do. 

Barking OF THE Mob. Is that so ?— Ahem !— You enlighten 
us ! — Let us try ? etc. 

An enamored young villager springs panther-like upon 
the wife of another villager, who enraged stabs him in 
the back, so that the entangled couple rolls into the abyss. 

Wise Old Man. Quab-disciple ! 

Snarling of the Mob {as they disperse.) Next time we'll go 
to the Wise Old Woman who always weeps. I am weary of his 
urapireship. He is fast getting decrepit; wisdom is passing out 
of his reach. 

Wise Old Man. Cofne, Ariya, let us repose in our flesh. 

Ariya. {To Sudotana. ) What can we do for you ? 

SUDOTANA. Untie my ropes . 

Wise Old Man. Unnecessary labor ! You would fall to pieces. 

Ariya. Why, you are badly hurt. 



BUDDHA. 31 

Wise Old Man. Not much left ; quite unfleshed. 
SuDOTANA. {Struggles to rise.) I must go to work. There are 
still so many living. 

(Gautama passes along the forest edge in the distance; 
his white garment is seen flitting through the tree trunks. ) 

SuDOTANA. (Sinks down, staring at the apparition.) 

Wise Old Man. Won't you try and take a good dinner, and 
thereupon let me kick you into the abyss. No? You want to die 
right here on the spot? {Scratching his head .) But, dear friend, 
imagine what outrageous, pestiferous smells you'll make. We 
have such scorching nights at this time of the year. Well, as you 
like, suit yourself. Come, Ariya. {Sits down before the tent to 
eat his supper, suddenly bursts out into a roar of laughter.) How 
life is interesting ! 

Curtain. 



SCENE VIII. 
THE VALLEY OF REST. 

A road lined with cypress trees descends through a landscape of 
superb breadth and beauty, towards one of the colossal, highly 
fantastical palaces of India, lit up with a few soft lights. 
Early evening effect, varying from a faint lilac green to a deep 
violet . 

Gautama (enters). The world with its tumults lies behind me. 
The battlefields and fighting hosts of yesterday are but indistinct 
masses in agitated Hues . Onward and onward I move to unknown 
heights. Before I pursue my path, let me rest a few moments m 
this valley of peace. All here breathes quietude and plentitude, 
serenity without alloy, untainted with burdening thoughts and 
woes of transitoriness. My home, my home 1 In all my errantry 
for these scores of years, I never found a place so spellfull, seduc- 
tive so radiant with bliss, such holy calm as this . The sweet, pure 
delights of home and love, the charm of wealth and power, glow 
once more in their alluring lights. They are within my reach. I 
would be welcomed back, and yet-how could they give me satis- 
faction now ? 
^ Three maidens draped in lilac, with severe simplicity, 

seem to float through the still evening air. Gautama 

stands as if petrified. 

First Maiden. As we wander homewards, tell me once more the 
story of the cruel, holy man. 

Third Maiden. I think of it by day and dream of it by night. 

Second Maiden. Listen, then :— It had been a summer day like 
this, fifty years gone by. The evening was a lovely dream-hipped 



34 BUDDHA, 

maiden like yourself; dee[)eiiiiig space was like her flowing robes; 
the dark clouds like her braided hair; the stars like precious stones 
adorning beauty. And the Prince, the pride of India, whispered 
gently: " Yasodhara, dear wife, it is late. Go to rest." She an- 
swered with shimmering tears in the chalice of her lotus eyes: "I 
am alarmed at your sadness of late, oh Prince, my soul of all." 
He fondled her lovingly, kissing her moist bimba lips: "Let not 
such anxieties cause you distress.' So she went musing to her jas- 
mine-scented couch, nightly embroidered with fresh flowers. With 
her first born nestling to her bosom — unfastening her hipband in 
the f oft blue charms of night — she fell asleep awaiting the hour 
when, wrapped in clouds of love, the dreams of life w^ould rain upon 
her. Yet the Prince did not come to kindle her passion's low lit 
flame to seas of lambent fire, for the night of destiny had fallen, 
which parted him forever from independent will and common joys, 
to search on supermundane roads perfection in this world. Before 
meandering forth on moon-steeped paths, the Prince yearned to 
embrace both mother and child once more; albeit, afraid of aw^aken- 
ing them, he merely threw — in the flickering light of the softly 
swinging lamp — a last glance of farewell and love on all his happi- 
ness. The Princess, awakening under the silvery streaks of dawn, 
finding herself alone with her child beneath the cover of purple 
and pearl, uncaressed by his delicate roaming hand, sank into a 
swoon. And though her soft waved limbs recovered weary life, 
her flower soul was dead to all its former charms. Outside the 
imposing castle gate, faithful Chandaka mournfully returned, lead- 
ing his master's fiery steed, neighing loud. It was trapped with 
golden network and a saddle cloth blazoned with gold and irisated 
with gems of every fascination, the work of the Princess. But the 
Prince had become a penniless and despised pilgrim, a homeless 
self -exile, in search for truth. {Exit.) 

Gautama. {Murmurs.) Yasodhara! — Yasodhara! He who has 
renounced this is no longer of earthly mould. He is past harm, 
even if convictions fall away and faith leave him I 

Magic silence. The moon rises like a golden chalice 
from the sea of night. 



SCENE IX. 



THE CAVE OF DAWN. 



To the left, a cave, hollowed out in a steep rock. A path consisting 
of roughly hewn steps passes its entrance. To the right, a 
magnificent view on the plains, where aurora is struggling 
with the mist. 

The Five Holy Disciples, emaciated, with a facial resem- 
blance to Hugo, Whitman, Tolstoi, etc., squat on deerskins 
under the arch of the cave's entrance. They have a calm and 
self chastised expression, as if they had written the world's 
history. 

Second Disciple. {Eating some herbs and sprouts.) Here, 
brother. 

First Disciple. Thanks, brother. I put a bag of fertile soil on 
my stomach only yesterday. It will nourish me for a while. I like 
to be considerate to all parts of my body and not annoy my bowels 
unnecessarily. 

Fifth Disciple. True, my wise brother, I have not moved from 
this spot for three entire months. 

First Disciple. I sometimes did not breathe for hours. 

Fourth Disciple. (Nods.) What wonderful control we have 
over ourselves. Stupid humanity would not believe that we have 
touched neither man nor woman for twenty years. 

First Disciple. And never eaten cooked food. 

Second Disciple. And waited for the rain to take a drink. 

Third Disciple. Believe me, by appropriating what we re- 
nounce, we become thus pure and strong. 

Fourth Disciple. Do not let us talk so much ! 



36 BUDDHA. 

Fifth Disciple. You are right, brother; let us join voices in 
our morning service, and then meditate on the one great word. 

The Five Holy Disciples. (Point below and murmur, repeat- 
ing each sentence three times. ) Vanity ! Vanity 1 Vanity I Stu- 
pid, stupid humanity ! We, the five only genuine holy disciples 
of the great Buddha, we do not believe ourselves the centre of the 
universe. "We trust nothing, like and dislike nothing, we desire 
nothing but to lose our individuality, to dissolve body and soul into 
Nirvana. 

Gautama appears, ascending the steps. Although the 
disciples have not seen their master for more than twenty 
years, they show no sign of curiosity. 

First Disciple. {As Gautama approaches.) Bless you, who 
made a holy disciple out of a proud despot ! 

Second Disciple. Bless you, who proved to the quondam rob- 
ber chief that the life of the freest libertine on earth is nothing to 
that enjoyed by a holy disciple ! 

Third Disciple. Bless you, who prevented a brothel-keeper 
from further wallowing in the mire ! 

Fourth Disciple. Bless you, who taught me the insuflSciencies 
of science, the bliss of uninfluenced mono logy ! 

Fifth Disciple. Bless you, who convinced me that out and in- 
ward pain can be overcome by oblivious contemplation ! 

Gautama. Bless you, and follow me to deny your faith ! 

The Five Holy Disciples open their eyes and mouths 
wide. 

Gautama. {Gives each a few hairs of his beard as objects of wor- 
ship and smiles serenely as he proceeds on his journey.) Follow me 
to deny your faith ! {He sneezes as he turns around the corner.) 

The Five, Holy Disciples toss about in hysterical 
despair. 

Curtain. 



SCENE X. 



AT THE BOUNDARY OF PERPETUAL SNOW. 



Moonrise o'er mountain peaks, cleaving the mist — which ghost- 
like floats hither and thither— in various forms and height. 
Gautama is reclining on the highest pinnacle. In the distance 
glimmers the glacial architecture of the Himalaya. 

Gautama. Departed spirits of my faith once more, like the ma- 
jestic moon, rise and move in mighty waves the ocean of my 
thoughts that lay at rest; not to the tempestuous fury of the past 
that drove resistless everything before its mighty course, and shat- 
tered human creeds like wrecks — merely a last glance of farewell 
at thy everlasting rise and fall, the grand monotony of life ! 

Oh, universe within universe, the enigma of thy existence is not 
cruel, not obscure to me though it has oft tormented me with sleep- 
less agony. A repetition, nothing else: — a ceaseless play of bil- 
lows of the same chaotic mass ! 

Just as this body's imperishable dust incessantly rebuilds the 
phenomena of life, reason and feeling both consist of multitudi- 
nous minute forces that, in continual transformation, attract or 
repulse, inflame or chill, condense or dissolve each other. These 
forces, wedded to the dust, roam dormant through the universe, until 
affinity lets them concuss to minor images of the majestic revolu- 
tion: man. 

All the nomadic population of water, earth and air, swarming in 
flocks or straying alone, even beings too small for the eye of science, 
all growing things, the flowers indeed, nay, this solid rock, possess 
soul atmospheres in inferior states. Incessant concussion during 
millenniums had to in and (?volutionize, before the breathing of a 
tenuous leaf became the breath of human eloquence, before acranic 



S8 BUDDHA. 

two-holed bellies moved to the highest phase of individual con- 
sciousness: a mechanism even freer than the stars that can reflect 
upon its action and partly influence itself. The human soul with 
its panurgic zest and obsequious intervals of lethian rest, from 
where it comes, for which it pines in apathetic absentations of 
itself, straying through the weird capricious confusions of dream- 
land, or struggling in sombre estuaries of insanity's sea ! 

By parents, manifold and cruel, the germs of our life are shed in 
the fields of infancy and youth; changing their substance cease- 
lessly, each turgescent plant, fed by all affinity can draw from 
chaos' surging sea, unfolds unwillingly its individual zest with 
soaring trunk and leafy wilderness; its fruitage falling more or 
less complete according to the skill, that curbs the fire fluids as they 
intercourse. There are souls swooning away as noonday love and 
glare dissolve their overheated sheath; and there are others, burn- 
ing fier ely in calm intensity, until the inward fire has consumed 
the mortal web maintaining it. 

How frail and fugitive is life ! Oh, magic friend, thy vernal ra- 
diance caresses the outlines of this wasted form, still garrulous 
with itself as in the nights of yore, — a repetition of remembered 
love. 

So circling time reiterates the tasks of nations and of men. Soul 
forces of ancestral times, currenting in unknown spheres, spinning 
in rhythmical curves, perchance, around some sun and influencing 
or her conscious growths, suddenly return to human habitations to 
reflect the vice and glory of dead ages. Still sapient men of bcience 
ponder how reveries of sounds or color spread like pestilence 
through public taste. 

Ye, forgemen of futurity, who will desolate your accidental 
sways as sages, warriors, and martyrs, how much, as I preced- 
ing captors, you'll resemble me — before whom other buddhas 
darken as the stars' variegation before the greenish yellow of the 
sun. {Laughs softly. ) Our pabulation consisted of the same mag- 
netic forces that command the instincts of the human herd. 

Sensitive persons, — lovers of thy perlaceous pallidity, mate of my 
vanished dreams— in foolish weakness or emotion deep as the sun- 
dering white and dark blue sea, never overcome the loss of friend- 
ship and of love, because the soul of the departed one has left in 
them a part whose love lures cannot be extinguis-hed ; again, again, 



BUDDHA. 39 

tenaciously they call when crushed by joyful hours or the healing 
antidotes of time. 

As the visage of a child reflects the faces it has seen, elective 
pairs remaining lovers, grow alike in manner and construction as 
in the realm of reason and susceptibilities, for already in their first 
meeting, through a word or glance, a movement of the body or 
the soul, they shoot into each other a restless longing to complete 
«ach other in that sublime concussion which produces birtli, the 
creative talent of the mob. 

But ye, poor world-wide artists, fashioned in heaven and hell, 
you have absorbed too deep a share of universal heat ! Its vehe- 
ment radiation must repulse the multitude. Do ordinary mortals 
ever fathom the hungry depths of a creative soul ! — perchance, in 
sunbeam hours of maternal sacrifice, in twilight breedings of de- 
spair, or nights of jealous rage. Life's gorges are too shallow for 
intensity of joy in pain ; its waters, rebelling, rush to unknown limits 
and, inundating, rise into oblivion. I pilgered lonesome through 
this desert dream, and now sit solitary on this mountain peak be- 
yond myself. 

Temple of redemption, redundant with bardic melodies of form, 
the rainbow's fragrant measures, with monuments of thought, and 
odorous hues of sound, thy white and sacred messengers of faith, 
rising phoenix-like from beauty's sacred flames, sun-soaring, resus- 
citate with every beat of wings the inspiration of thy Artist Gods ! 
Their deeds redeem mortality, in their time-outliving power to vi- 
brate the imponderable into the inner world of man ; and scattered 
love, throughout the universe transfigured, draws all afiinities be- 
neath her despot ban. 

Who knows if one spark cannot call its brother from the stars 
with a decilJion-fold rapidity of light ! 

Oh, thousand moments — in a high strung life — of exquisite joyful 
pain, can you redeem the other plight, the blank monotony over 
which the unconscious sheds its sere sardonic light ! It is in vain, 
it is in vain the parasites of earth must wander forth to bane in 
endless discontent the inconsistencies of fate. 

Even devotion, wooed by necessity and circumstance, lets her con- 
victions glide away, time-pleasing considers them from other cen- 
tres, until suddenly, in the tenebrious hour of death, doubt darts to 
the surface with appalling vehemence, breaking through all the 



40 BUDDHA. 

stratas of persuasion and appeasement which have overgrown it, 
and reestablishes the old faith triumphant on waning lips. 

In the final restoration, that queer riddle, which in curious 
trepidation all to solve solicit, old age, disease, or accident: the 
trinity of death loosens some threads of life's variegated web ; the 
broken garment falls, the shivering soul dissolves, and currents of 
invisible sparks, forever dead, forever living, flow slumbering 
from sleep to sleep. 

A.nd so, what men call history, ever onward thunders : one life is 
launched, the other sinks, generations come and go, new nations 
blossom forth and rot, new worlds are born and die, new agencies 
of existence may originate when forces conquer consciousness 
without — Come, mists, in tender wildness also wrap this solitary 
peak within your ghostly veils. ...... 

It is growing cold 1 Yasodhara, 
let me fold Nirvana's mantle around your moonlit shoulders. 

The mists wind higher and higher, until all peaks have 
disappeared and the scene appears like a nebulous sea, on 
whose distant shore the summits of the Himalaya glow 
like a huge crystallized fairy castle . 

Curtain. 



SCENE XI. 



SUMMIT OF THE HIMALAYA, 



Summit of the Himalaya. Its imposing peaks are shaiply outlined 
against the bluish-black sky. Snow whisperings. 

Gautama. ( With long, zvhite, flowing hair and beard, in a plain 
white garment y enters this scene of white. It begins to snow. ) At 
last I At last ! As far and near as human beings can approach for- 

getfulness on earth 

Nothing . . . , sinks into Everything. 

Deep under me, wrapped in the misty garments of everlasting 
night, lies human vanity ......... 

On this altar of untrodden snow I now deny my 
faith, the only thing I trusted here on earth. 

This mighty urn, from which the sublimest of all renunciations 
flows, what is it but an empty cavity through which chaos' lawless 
currents howl to unknown measures. Human thoughts — a hand of 
snow — like fragile flowers dreaming forlorn on rigid, icy heights, 
destined to die if they relume in other spheres . Perhaps you under- 
stand me better than I you. How can I ever know what agitations 
thrill through this white conglomeration at my feet ! — Beyond this 
universe, embracing inflnite eternity with every spot in space as 
centre, may there not be beyond the outermost, beyond the inner- 
most, somewhere. Something creating worlds without the laws 
that men consider there. 

Come, Deodunga, tear your labyrinthian roots. 



43 BUDDHA. 

of fire out from this vainglorious earth, to evanescent frag- 
ments shattered ; soar as my crystal chariot into space, with sun 
and moon as fleeting steeds, with reins of stars in bridle hand, and 
comets for darkness breaking whip, cleave this paltry universe in 
two, revealing realms man never knew ! 

{It begins to snow more heavily. — Gautama lies down to sleep upon the 

snow.) 
• .... ..... .... 

Death, gentle death, queen of beauty, benefactress of mankind, 
come with thy soft, white wing and fondly fold me in thy arms. 
Since my birth I often felt thy cool, refreshing breath fanning my 
weary limbs, but cruel thou always passedst by and left me to my 
earthly sufferings. Now, at last I can rest at thy white breast and 
slumber peacefully without hope and dreams. .... 

This is the end; the momentary trance will cease ; the dream of 
Boul inflations from god's bourn has past. ... I may 
awake to something else which I have never left as I was never here. 
It was a play, ridiculous and sad, enacted in my whimful self. . . 
, . . All is non existent. 

{Snowstonn.) 
Body and soul, farewell for ever! If you 
can, impregnate other unconscious melodies with boundless bliss. 



Gusts of snowflakes move to and fro, weaving a wind- 
ing sheet for Buddha, under which he disappears from 
the eyes of humanity, like all of us, one after the other, 
as if we had never existed. 



To Students of Color Psychology. 

SCENE XII. 

DARKNESS IN SPACE. 



Poetical license imagines that, at Buddha's entering Nirvana, a 
color revery takes place in the universe . 

This scene, a concert of self-radiant colors, is to be represented by 
pyrotechny, brought by chemistry, electricity and future light- 
producing sciences to such perfection and beauty that it 
becomes the new Optic Art, in which Color will rival Sound as 
a vehicle of pure emotion. 

Scene — Bluish- black darkness in space : a minute section of the 
universe, represented by a stage of at least 800 yards length and 
500 yards height and depth . 

I. Out of darkness the earth, in the ban of the sun and 
followed by her pallid paramour the moon, ever revolving rolls 
majestically forward, displaying the phenomena of a lunar and 
solar eclipse, and growing larger and larger until she has become so 
large that one can discern: the ultramarine of the oceans, the 
glaucous of the steppes, the pallid gold of the deserts, the crystal 
fretwork of the poles and glaciers, and here and there the dark fly- 
specif of the largest cities, which become scintillant as the other 
colors fade in earthly night. It impresses the beholder like the 
colossal ideal of human vanity and then rolls backwards into 
darkness. 

II. Confused tumbling of meteors through space — a symbol 
of man's life, propelled from some unknown bourn and rushing to 



44 BUDDHA. 

some unknown goal, proving its momentary existence merely by 
a luminous line, lit and extinguished without change of course. 
The meteors, varying continually in the rhythm of entrance and 
exit, mobility, richness and intensity of fire, shoot forth in every 
direction, also in every possible angle, towards the audience. 

III. Incessant rain of luminous stellar dust, in the midst of 
which a battle of stars, comets, planets with rings and satellites, 
takes place. They rush towards each other, and recede, encircle 
each other and create endless variations of figures. Now and then 
stars crush into each other with a great explosion of fire, unite into 
larger stars and, continuing their course, emit a light produced by 
a combination of their colors when separate . Suddenly the stars 
grow larger and larger, the smaller ones disappearing behind the 
larger, until a few dozens have reached the diameter of 50 yards, 
who in turn repeat a crescendo of concussions. An orange and a 
blue star collide and form a still larger one radiating a greenish light 
of painful hope. A roseate and blue star also collide to a violet 
glow of melancholy bliss. Thereupon these two collide, and before 
they grow into one, all the other stars crush into them, causing an 
incandescent firebrand that radiates the entire space wiili its 
irisating light. This fire wall is suddenly cleft in two, and in 
innumerable hues and palpitations melts away in ' -diminuendo". 

IV. The lower (i) part of the stage represents the sea of 
chaos over which by some caprice the light effects of an earthly 
day, from a bloodred dawn to a moonlit night, are performed in 
color gradations of subtlest purity, accompanied by descriptive 
music. 

Intermezzo, entitled " Alhambra Arabesques." In succes- 
sion the famous patterns in luminous gold, blue and faded red, 
interlace, overlap, and link each other before the eyes of the 
audience, and finally change into an improvisation of new designs 
of the same character. (For other intermezzos the author suggests 
•'The Shattered Jewel Casket," "Flowers growing in Cloudland," 
etc.) 

V. A kaleidoscopical symphony of color effects continually 
changing in elation and depression, velocity, intensity, variety and 



BUDDHA. 45 

sentiment, continually developing and composing new forms and 
designs, not merely of mathematical symmetry, but also as sug- 
gested from the endless constructions, textures, phenomena 
revealed in astronomy, microscopy, mineralogy, geology, paleon- 
tology, etc., beginning with a Lhargetto in light bluish-grey, muddy 
yellowish-green, greenish-blue and dark greyish-blue; followed by 
an Andante in color containing blue from green to purple ; by an 
Allegretto of complimentary colors with a tendency towards yellow 
and red ; and by a Finale vivace in all colors, endmg at last with a 
flower star, emitting rocket like fire lines, trills, radiations of various 
propelling power, at first paraphrasing in the colors of the solar 
spectrum, and at last improvising an outburst of new colors, like 
ultra red and violet, for which optical instruments have first to be 
invented before the human eye can perceive and enjoy them. 



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